The Beauty of Scars
by smileplease91
Summary: Together, they will show each other just how beautiful their scars truly are.


His hand in hers, gentle but expressing his emotions in ways words failed. Wedding bands touched, dented and scratched after facing countless battles. Their clothes were strewn all around the tent out of carelessness and passion, and their breaths were visible due to the coldness of the night that neither paid mind to. Undivided attention was on each other's bodies.

She felt his lips skim over the scar on her side; she had received it when she had first met Chrom, Lissa, and Frederick, protecting the town from bandits. Her skin covered itself in chill bumps, not only from the cold but the touch of his lips. Gently, her free hand rested on his firm torso on a long, jagged scar that also took place on his back; shortly after they met, he had protected her from an attack by a sword, which pierced his torso and exited his back. When they met, he felt as though he could protect her better on the ground, so he dismounted from his horse, removed his green armor, and trained in the way of the Swordmaster. Never before had she been so scared- at least that she could recall- and stayed with him, keeping enemies away by engaging them in battle. He recollected losing consciousness on the battlefield, and when he awoke in the medical tent three days later, she was there. When he had received that scar, he realized that he loved her.

He kissed a scar just below her lips, then placed them on her lips. His fingers glided down her waist, hip, and thigh to feel a series of three scars. With his hand, he grasped onto her leg and shifted himself between her legs, his fingers feeling along the scars. She leaned up and kissed a scar on his neck, inciting a sharp intake a breath from him and a tight squeeze of her hand. The hand that was on her leg moved up, skimming along her breasts then moved to her back, which felt along a long, diagonal scar that reached from her left pelvis to her right shoulder. She had nearly died from that attack, and he stayed by her side, helping her until she was better. When she had received that scar, she realized that she loved him.

Gentle… ever so gentle he was with her, as always. Making love was nothing new to them, but he wanted to give her the best she deserved, and while in his mind he wasn't the best, he would do everything in his power to make her feel he was. Yet, she knew he was the best, and she was proud to call him her husband. She didn't care if others saw him as "average"; she knew otherwise, and she was grateful that only she would ever know just how extraordinary he was. The fact that he loved every inch of her, scars and all, told her just how much he loved her. When he looked at her, everyone could see the love in his eyes; but, like this, only she could see the full extent of every emotion he had. He never held anything back when it came to her.

Her back arched in his hand as she was granted her release, his name on her lips. She gripped his hand tightly, her fingers feeling the scar in the middle of his hand that was on both sides. This scar came from a dagger that stabbed through his hand while reaching for their son, Morgan, to pull him up to avoid said dagger. Another scar by protecting his family. At first, she had felt guilty about them, but to him, they were badges of honor he wore proudly. He always made sure she was satisfied first, and if he could would give her that satisfaction over and over again until she begged for mercy. His release was not as important to him as hers. Altruistic as always, he made everything about her.

When she could no longer take it, he allowed it to end. His body shuddered at his release (she heard him whisper her name), and he leaned his forehead on her shoulder, where another scar was. This scar, she had gotten while protecting him. Both breathless and bodies drenched in sweat, he lifted his head off her shoulder and looked into her eyes, where he saw euphoria and adoration for him. He smiled as he placed his lips on her lips, his hand still in her hand and other hand on the scar on her back. Her free hand was gripped on his hip, which had a small scar from an arrow. She closed her eyes as he leaned his forehead on her forehead, letting the feelings sink in.

Who would have thought scars to be so beautiful?


End file.
